


Heart's Blood

by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeousnerd/pseuds/Gorgeous%20Nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edith Cushing is many things: a rich heiress, a writer seeking publication, a daughter, and a friend. When she meets Sir Thomas Sharpe, a poor baronet looking to fund his mining project, she falls in love despite her misgivings and her father's protection.</p><p>But what of the ghosts she can't stop seeing? What exactly are they trying to warn her about? Who are the true monsters who surround her?</p><p>And will Edith survive when she finds out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart's Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindmadness/gifts).



> Extended (and very spoilery, for both story and movie) content notes can be found in the end notes. If you have any triggers, I recommend skipping to the end and reading them first, especially if you aren't familiar with the movie.
> 
> Canon review was done with both the movie and the novelization, although I tried to adhere more to the former when not going with my own interpretations. 
> 
> Thanks to the usual suspects.

_Ogilvie had his hands on Edith's manuscript, and it was only years of socialization that kept her still. Even so, she found herself touching the pen callus on the middle finger of her right hand to ground herself. Patience would always be a difficult virtue for her to embrace._

_The story was Edith's best so far. A girl left exposed and vulnerable by the death of her parents, the vultures who swooped in to take advantage after, the imprint all the violations left behind. She was pleased at how layered it had turned out, how themes had carried through...there were parts of the story that could use shaping, surely, but guidance from an experienced hand—_

_"You didn't say this was a monster story."_

_Edith frowned. "It's a story_ with _monsters, but it's a metaphor."_

_Ogilvie nodded, but he didn't seem overly concerned with Edith's comment._

_It didn't get better from there._

_Edith's handwriting was too feminine. The story was too graphic for a woman, too ghastly. Did Ogilvie consider men and women to be different species? She couldn't stomach it. And then, as Ogilvie handed the pages back, a smile twisted his face._

_"Consider adding a love story," he said._

_Edith thanked him, nodded her farewell, and clutched her story to her bosom as she exited the room. She wasn't angry. Oh no. The wheels in her head were too busy turning for something as simple and base as _anger_._

_"A love story," she murmured as she descended the stairs. "Very well."_

-

It was said those visited by ghosts did not see them with their own eyes upon their first visit. Still, their presence was undeniable.

Edith was a child when she had her first visitation. If the ghost had been visible, it had been impossible to see against the darkness of the hall outside her bedroom. But the air changed, swallowing the sounds of Buffalo outside and any superfluous noise within. Only the noise the ghost caused could be heard. A brush against a table. A rattle of a doorknob.

A facsimile of a familiar voice in Edith's ear.

"Beware Crimson Peak," it whispered hoarsely as Edith clutched the blankets of her bed closer.

Her mother's voice. Impossible, since Edith and her father had buried her mother earlier that day, but Edith couldn't deny it. Why Mother had come back in a terrifying specter to give a warning Edith couldn't understand was too much for her to understand, but the visit left its mark, as it was obviously meant to.

The warning given, the touch of the ghost on Edith's shoulder disappeared along with all other signs of her presence.

Maybe Edith hadn't needed its visit to learn that death lingered. Nevertheless, she'd known she would see death everywhere for the rest of her days.

-

Edith first met Sir Thomas Sharpe at her father's office. She was typing her story - all the better to hide how feminine her handwriting was - when he interrupted her efforts to hand her a card.

"Meeting with the great man himself?" Edith said when he asked after her father. "You're not late, are you? He hates that."

"Not at all. I'm actually a little early." He smiled at her and picked up her pages as, who was helping her type, went to see if Mr. Cushing was busy. "Excuse me, I don't mean to pry, but is this fiction? About monsters."

"It's..."

She was about to say it was a metaphor, but he spoke again. "They've always fascinated me. Where I come from, ghosts and monsters aren't to be taken lightly."

Edith found herself smiling back. Sir Thomas didn't much seem the "parasite with a title" she had called him when she'd seen the McMichaels earlier outside Ogilvie's office. Alan was her friend, but she hadn't often been pleasant with his sister Eunice or her mother, and they had never liked her, a girl who preferred writing to parties. More likely, they hadn't liked how much time Alan had spent with her over the years, even since Eunice had started courting an attractive suitor.

Sir Thomas may not have seemed a parasite, but he had a well-tailored suit that looked at least a decade old, and his countenance appeared wan. Once Edith noticed, she also saw him sway on his feet.

"Pardon my asking," Edith said, standing, "but are you well?"

"Quite well, thank you." His smile seemed a bit more forced as he returned the pages he'd borrowed.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," Father said as he approached. He shook Sir Thomas's hand. "Welcome to our fair city. I see you've met my daughter."

That earned Edith a surprised smile, and Edith smiled demurely back.

-

Edith was curious what would bring a baronet to her father's office, so she slipped into the meeting with Sir Thomas. It took her but a few moments to see that it wasn't going well.

"You've tried to raise capital for your mines in London, Edinburgh, Milan..." Her father smiled. "And now you're here."

He compared his rough-worn hands with Sir Thomas's softer ones, and Edith winced. Couldn't her father see that Sir Thomas wasn't entirely well? There was more light still in the meeting room than had been in the rest of the office, and its golden hue only brought across the leanness of Sir Thomas's figure and the sickly tone to his skin.

The meeting ended without satisfaction for Sir Thomas, and the suspicious look never left her father's face.

-

On the evening of the McMichaels' "social frivolity", as Alan put it, Edith sent her father off with the good doctor, both smartly dressed and kept dry from the rain in Alan's new motorcar. Edith was sorry to see them go - she was fond of them both - but she wasn't sorry to have time to pour over a section of a book on Allerdale Hall, the holding of the Sharpe family.

She was interrupted by a sound at her door. Edith turned, frowning. "Father? Did you forget something?"

Her door was swinging open, the doorknob jiggling, but there was no one holding it. Edith gaped at it until...

Until she saw the black figure on the other side of the hall. She had not seen it before, and it looked ghastly, with its rotting black dress and exposed skull. It screamed and reached for her.

Edith stood in a rush, slamming the door closed and holding it shut.

"What is it?" she cried. "What do you want?"

A whisper of her name emanated from the direction of the spirit, and Edith clapped a hand over her mouth to keep a shriek from escaping. Her mother's voice, like she'd dreamed as a child after her mother had died. Distorted and wrong.

Black, bony hands reached through the door and grabbed Edith's shoulders.

"Beware Crimson Peak," her mother rasped.

It took some effort, but Edith wrenched herself free, falling back against her bed. She cried in quiet, shuddering gasps as she heard her name again.

"Excuse me, miss?" That time, it came from Annie, their servant, who helped her to her feet. "Are you all right?"

It took Edith a few moments to master herself. "Yes," she said. "What is it?"

Annie didn't seem to believe Edith, and for good reason, but she said, "Sir Thomas Sharpe is here, and he won't be sent away. He wants to talk to you."

-

Sir Thomas was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Edith emerged. Their positions had been switched: his posture was good and solid, and the sickly pallor to his skin was gone, while Edith was trembling and unsettled. Sir Thomas looked concerned as he took her in.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, holding a top hat in his hand. "You seem a little pale."

Edith nodded. "I'm not too well. Father isn't home."

"I know he's going to the reception at the McMichael house, and that's my destination, too."

"You're very, very lost."

"I need your help." There was a shine to his eyes that, in this house, she found unsettling.

Edith frowned. "With what?"

"The language, for one thing. As you can plainly see, I do not speak a word of American." His smile was unpolished and genuine, and Edith felt herself warming to it. But he sobered and said, "Tell me, why would you want to stay here? All alone?"

Edith looked up the stairs and found she had no good answer.

-

The crowd parted as Edith entered on Sir Thomas's arm. She didn't neglect to notice all the eyes on her, which was the majority of the room, but a few stood out: her father, Alan, Mrs. McMichael, and a woman that approached with Alan. They exchanged greetings, and Edith learned that the woman, so dark and similar to Sir Thomas, was his sister, the Lady Lucille. Her gaze flickered between Edith and her brother, and when Edith turned to apologize to Mrs. McMichael - and get a dressing down from her as well - it was somehow more of a relief than being in Lucille's presence.

Edith's plan was to stay at the edges of the party. It was her usual strategy at such events. Her father and Alan would probably induce her to dance once or twice, and one or both of them would escort her home early, and she could watch Sir Thomas with Eunice to her heart's content. At present, it was a better option than being at home.

No one was more surprised when Eunice requested Sir Thomas demonstrate a European-style waltz and, instead of offering his hand to Eunice, he paused in front of Edith. She didn't know what surprised her more: that he was offering, or that she wanted to accept.

Still, aware of Eunice beside her, she whispered, "I don't think so. Thank you. I'm sure Eunice would be delighted."

"I daresay." He extended his hand. "But I have asked you."

That Edith couldn't refuse.

As Sir Thomas led Edith onto the floor, she was aware, again, of everyone on the sides. She was keenly aware of Lucille in particular, stiff as she lowered herself onto the piano bench again. There were stringed players beside her, and it seemed Edith's heart fluttered in her throat.

But the music started, and the world outside Edith and Sir Thomas faded away.

Sir Thomas had said in his introduction that a candle was the key to a perfect waltz, and so they held a candle between them, the flame remaining lit as they glided across the floor. Edith would never have credited herself a good dancer, and Alan's aching toes in the past would attest to her thoughts, but maybe she'd just needed the perfect partner all along.

When they finished, the candle was still lit. The flame danced in Sir Thomas's eyes with a red intensity like she had seen earlier that night, but here, it wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it was intriguing.

Edith blew out the flame with a smile on her face.

-

The following day was a glorious example of autumn: cool enough to justify a heavier dress, but not so cool to keep Edith inside. She stopped by Alan's first, where he eagerly showed her some of his trophies from London. The residual images of ghosts on glass plates were breathtaking, whether or not they were impossible to fake, as Alan insisted. Edith had seen an actual ghost with her own two eyes; it was a comfort to know she wasn't the only one.

She wasn't sure what she thought of his collection of silver stakes, which he unrolled from a leather satchel.

"From the Carpathian Mountains, apparently," he said with an amused tone in his voice. 

"These aren't for a tent or anything of the sort?"

"I suspect they're nothing but a tourist trinket, but no. Apparently they kill both vampires and werewolves when applied properly. The vendor told me it was 'easier than removing the head'." Alan shook his head. "A foolish purchase, but they were so fine I couldn't resist. I don't suppose you want one?"

Edith laughed, but her fingers glided over the carvings. They seemed familiar somehow...

"Oh!" she said aloud. When Alan looked confused, she said, "Father gifted me with a pen after I tried submitting my manuscript. I think the decorations are similar. And the tip is likely silver."

"You have a stake of your own?" Alan's eyes twinkled.

"I suppose! Is this the place for a 'pen is mightier than the sword' quote?"

Alan laughed again, his look fond.

-

Edith went out later with Sir Thomas and Lady Lucille in the rich almost-warmth of the afternoon, both of whom insisted Edith refer to them by their Christian names only. "Thomas" and "Lucille" were easier in Edith's mouth, certainly, but they were also so familiar that it gave Edith a flush of happiness that she pretended not to have.

The two siblings insisted on being out in public even though neither Sharpe looked particularly well. Edith wasn't rude enough to mention it, but she suspected Thomas was glad of the excuse to sit and read Edith's story. Lucille, on the other hand, was content to look at the trees nearby, and when Edith approached, Lucille said aloud, "He is well, you know."

"I didn't..." Edith shook her head as Lucille snapped a branch with a cocoon. "Is it a butterfly?"

"No. But soon, it will be." Lucille lowered to the ground, and when Edith followed, she saw dying butterflies flapping on the ground. Lucille picked one up and dragged it across Edith's cheek. "They take their heat from the sun, and when it deserts them, they die. Beautiful things are fragile in nature. Home only has black moths. Formidable, but not as beautiful."

Edith frowned. "What do they feed on?"

"Butterflies, I'm afraid."

-

Father was having a dinner party for some of his colleagues. He told Edith she could invite friends. "So Alan and those...Sharpes." He hadn't minced words about his negative feelings regarding Thomas, so she hoped leaving spots at their table was his way of extending the olive branch.

Her hopes continued when the party began and Thomas tried to take Edith aside to speak with her. There was an intensity to him and his careful grip on her arm that set her heart racing. The traces of anything unwell from their afternoon outing were gone, and nothing but handsome confidence remained.

And then Father asked to speak with the Sharpes alone.

When they reemerged emerged, Father invited Thomas to speak, and Edith was excited...until he spoke of leaving for England with Lucille immediately. Was that what he had been trying to say to her? Let her down lightly in a manner that wasn't as public?

The night didn't end there, however. When Edith tried to leave, he pursued, and only to say cruel things about her writings.

Really, the only good thing she could say about the day was that her bedroom was directly upstairs, so it was easy enough to seclude herself after her humiliation.

-

Annie roused her with a parcel, which had arrived earlier than Annie was willing to disturb Edith. Thomas - Sir Thomas - had returned her manuscript.

"It's all the same," Edith said, rubbing at her face. "Thank you. Leave it on the table."

"And the letter?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

She'd scarcely read the letter - a full apology, explaining that Father had tried to bribe both Thomas and Lucille - before she was calling for her coat, and she barely had her coat on before she was running through Buffalo to the hotel where the Sharpes were staying.

Or had been staying. Their former rooms were being cleaned by maids, who quickly told Edith that the reason for their absence was to catch the early train. Her heart fell, and she was willing, if not ready, to leave the hotel.

When she stepped out into the hall, Thomas was waiting for her. He looked an angel. He stood in front of a window with sunlight streaming behind him. The illusion was hardly broken when Edith ran to him, even though he looked more frail than ever.

"I cannot leave you, Edith," he murmured. "I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine. And should that link be broken by distance or time, then my heart would cease to beat and I would die. You'd soon forget about me."

"Never," she said, with intense feeling.

They kissed. Edith had never felt more complete.

-

Her happiness wasn't destined to last. 

When they entered the lobby, Edith on Thomas's arm, her father's lawyer was waiting, and Edith knew before he even spoke how bad the news was.

-

Thomas went with Edith to the morgue. Alan came in almost immediately after they arrived and tried to spare her the pain of identifying her father, but he couldn't. She had to look.

She would be ashamed, later, at how she lost her head, crying and asking everyone around why Father was cold and lying there. She knew she should be ashamed when she shoved Alan away from his investigations of her father's body, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

"He's my _father_ ," she cried, hiding his bloody face with the sheet. He'd hit the sink, they said. Slipped. It was so ugly. He had taken such care with his appearance.

Thomas was there beside her, stronger than ever. He spoke soothing words into her ear that she didn't entirely make out.

When Thomas led her out, Alan was still looking at her father. He'd pulled back the sheet enough for part of his head to be visible, and he seemed to be inspecting his throat, but at that point, Edith was too numb to care.

-

It rained intensely on the day of her father's funeral. Thomas and Alan both attended. Edith was on Thomas's arm, his family's ring on her finger, comforting in its weight. She didn't have her parents anymore, but she had another family. A new family.

When Alan kissed her goodbye, she felt pangs of longing in advance. She would miss him. 

Still, he seemed to know she needed a fresh start as much as she did.

-

Cumberland was exactly as Thomas and Lucille had said: dark and cold.

To be sure, it didn't help that they arrived at night, or that they arrived in a closed carriage with curtains blocking the windows. But Edith found herself shrinking back when the carriage stopped and an older servant opened the door.

"Ghastly, I know." Thomas had roused beside her. He'd spent a lot of their journey asleep, which Edith suspected was one of the main reasons they'd traveled in separate cabins. "But welcome home, Lady Sharpe."

Edith smiled at him. It felt good, being Thomas's wife. She took the servant's hand and eased out.

"Finley," Thomas said as he climbed out behind Edith. "This is my wife."

"I know, sir," Finley said.

Edith frowned, turning toward Thomas.

"Don't mind him. He's confused," Thomas said in an undertone. Louder, he said, "Would you like to see your house, my lady?"

He swept her into his arms, Edith laughing happily, and he walked them into the hall as Edith flinched against the wind.

"It's colder in here," Edith said before she'd entirely gotten her bearings. There was a large hole in the roof above the entry. There wasn't much the house would keep out, apparently.

"Indeed. Sinking, too, because of the clay underneath." Thomas kissed her cheek. "I must see to the bags."

He scurried off, and Edith turned in a circle, taking in the house. One of the luxuries she'd had with Father had been houses of good construction, but she suspected few lived in such grand houses that were decaying so badly. Allerdale Hall had seen beautiful days, clearly, but those days had been long ago. Possibly before Thomas and Lucille were born, even.

A fast-moving blur appeared at the corner of Edith's eye. She whirled to look - it had been directly in front of the fireplace, which was why she'd seen a patch of dark flickering against it - but nothing was there. Edith closed in to get a better look, and the fire flared as she approached, the wind groaning outside. She froze in place, but the wind died down, and the fire did as well.

The fireplace was in a parlor, complete with a library and a piano for Lucille. The combination of the lamps and the large fire pierced the gloom, and Edith could see easily that there was no one in the room.

She did catch a view of a slow-moving figure heading toward the kitchen.

"Lucille?" Edith asked, jogging to catch it.

There was an elevator in the kitchen, loud and clanking when Edith walked in. She could see there was _something _inside, traveling up into the higher floors of the house.__

__"Lucille?" Edith called up._ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__Edith turned, and there was Lucille, not in the elevator but in the kitchen, toward the stove. She looked as she ever did, stern and pale, but she softened when Thomas came in the room and stood beside Edith._ _

__"How was your journey?" Lucille asked, going to hug Thomas._ _

__"Well enough," Thomas asked. "Yours?"_ _

__"You know I don't like being alone. But I endured." Lucille turned to Edith like she was expecting an answer from her._ _

__"Who was in the elevator?" Edith asked instead._ _

__Thomas and Lucille looked toward the golden cage that surrounded the elevator._ _

__"I'm sorry?" Thomas asked._ _

__"The elevator. There was..."_ _

__"Oh. It has a mind of its own, I'm afraid. The clay mines have something to do with it." Thomas put a comforting hand on her arm. "And I should warn you not to venture below this level. It isn't safe."_ _

__Lucille went to hug Edith. "Thomas," she said reproachfully. "Your bride is freezing."_ _

__It was funny Lucille would say as much, when her skin felt chilly to Edith's touch. But Thomas simply nodded. "I'll help her run a bath upstairs."_ _

__He started to lead her out of the room, but Edith turned back to Lucille. "When you get a chance, could you make me a copy of the house keys?"_ _

__Lucille looked surprised that Edith would ask. "Allow yourself a few days to familiarize yourself with the house," she said. "If you still want keys, I'll make you copies then."_ _

__Edith nodded her thanks and followed Thomas upstairs._ _

__-_ _

__Thomas had warned Edith about the water in the bath running red. The clay got everywhere, it seemed; Edith had even seen red lines dripping in the walls of the kitchen. It didn't make it less jarring when she turned the tap and saw a spray of red emerge. It went clear again after she gave it time, but it was yet another part of the house that seemed decaying and unfriendly._ _

__The water felt warm and lovely, however, and Edith soaked without worry. When she emerged and dressed, Thomas was there with tea._ _

__"It should help you sleep," he said. "I'll be taking my own turn at the bath, but I will be awake for hours still. I'm working upstairs."_ _

__"Do you do that often?" Edith asked._ _

__Thomas smiled. "Oh yes. I'm rather nocturnal, I'm afraid. You might find yourself adopting a similar schedule after you spend some time here. The tea will help, though."_ _

__It tasted bitter, but it warmed her insides pleasantly, so Edith smiled and nodded at Thomas. He gave her a kiss and made for the bathroom, and she sank into the large armchair besides her bed, content at the bedchamber she shared with her husband._ _

__-_ _

__Edith awakened the next morning with a gasp. She wasn't sure why. Thomas slept peacefully beside her, and the day looked more advanced than Edith's usual rousing time, although it was difficult to tell with the cloud cover. Either way, it was more peaceful than the wind the night before._ _

__The lack of wind meant Edith could hear music playing distantly. Piano. Maybe it had been the noise that had roused her._ _

__When she went downstairs into the parlor she had seen the day before, Lucille was at the keys. Edith also read a phrase in Latin carved into the stone above the fireplace that she hadn't noticed during her quick inspection._ _

__As she approached the fireplace, Lucille said, "'Ad montes oculos levavi.' To the hills, we raise our eyes."_ _

__"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," Edith said. "What's that song you're playing?"_ _

__"A lullaby I used to play for Thomas. When we were children."_ _

__"I can see you two in here." It was a delightful image, two pale and serious children at serious play underneath the piano._ _

__Lucille shook her head. "We weren't allowed in here. We were confined in the attic, in the nursery. I could hear Mother play through the floor, however. That's how we knew she was back in the country."_ _

__As if Lucille had pointed to it, Edith's eyes landed on a portrait on the wall. The gray-haired woman painted on it was severe, even more so than Lucille, and not only did she wear the ring that Edith bore on her own finger, but she wore a dress that appeared decades out of date._ _

__"She looks quite..."_ _

__"Horrible?" Lucille came up beside her. "Yes. Excellent likeness. I like to think she can see us from up there. See everything we do."_ _

__Edith didn't know what to say, but it hardly seemed to matter; Lucille seemed to be thinking about something intensely. She shook it off before long and asked, "Did you sleep well?"_ _

__"Hmm? Oh, yes. Thomas is still in bed."_ _

__Lucille frowned, but it cleared almost immediately. "Is he?"_ _

__"I don't know when he went to bed. I slept first." Edith bit her lip. She decided to confide in Lucille. "Is he...well? We slept in separate cabins on the trip so he could get his rest, and he seemed to need so much."_ _

__"Oh." Lucille smiled a small, pleased smile. Odd, considering the question. "He's all right. We both keep odd hours, but he's far worse about getting the rest he needs. Now. Would you like to see the library?"_ _

__-_ _

__Craving sunlight, Edith went for a walk in the fields outside hours later. It was not like taking a walk in the streets of Buffalo and basking in its golden glow; even when the clouds parted, it seemed the best the desolate land could reach was a piercing clearness. It was better than the gloom in the house, however._ _

__When the sun began to sink, Edith went back inside and into the attic, where Thomas had said he would be much of the time._ _

__The attic was as decaying as the rest of the house, but almost sadder for the touches of childhood innocence that lingered. She paused in front of a mural with peeling paint that was covered in black moths, a quiet sobbing sound in the background. It was likely the wind. It grew louder as she approached a corner with a wheelchair and faded again when Edith turned toward the workshop._ _

__The workshop was one of the few places in the house that looked more beautiful in the growing dark. It had been wired for light, and exposed bulbs glowed a soft golden color. Thomas, sitting in the back with a blanket across his shoulders, seemed to have a golden aura hovering about him. It made Edith's breath catch._ _

__He beamed when he caught sight of her. "Darling. Do you like it?"_ _

__"I love it," she said, inspecting a wooden toy near the entrance. "Did you make all of these?"_ _

__"I made many things as a child to keep Lucille happy." Suddenly, Thomas was beside her. His eyes seemed to hold some of the glow from the lights overhead._ _

__"Were you alone often, the two of you? Lucille said earlier you were in the attic often."_ _

__Thomas laughed, a quiet sound without much humor. "The family fortune didn't lose itself. Father traveled often. We tried to befriend some of the mousing cats in the house, but they weren't particularly friendly, so..."_ _

__He wound one of the toys, and Edith gasped happily as it whirred to life._ _

__"You're so different," Thomas murmured._ _

__Edith tore her eyes away from the toy and met his softly fond look. "From who?"_ _

__He looked flustered a moment. "From...from everyone."_ _

__Edith felt warmth rise inside her, and she watched it rise in him as well, and just a few heartbeats later, they were kissing passionately. Thomas was a wonderful kisser, and Edith, feeling every bit of their unconsummated relationship, melted into him. He guided her against one of his work benches and let his large, capable hands wander._ _

__She wanted him. She wanted him _intensely_._ _

__But he froze after a moment and withdrew. "I thought I heard something," he said._ _

__Sure enough, Lucille appeared with a tea tray. "I was wondering where you two had gone," she said cheerfully, setting the tray on a table. "Edith, you got to sleep so late last night. I thought some tea earlier might help you rest. Thomas?"_ _

__"None for me, thank you."_ _

__Lucille made a quiet, contented noise and prepared a cup for Edith. She handed it to her. "This will soothe your nerves."_ _

__Edith hummed her thank you and drank._ _

__-_ _

__Pain awakened Edith. She wasn't sure what hurt at first, and she gasped in bed for a moment before realizing _everything_ hurt. The pain receded after a moment, but she was lightheaded in its wake._ _

__"Thomas?" she asked, rolling over, but of course he wasn't there._ _

__She wasn't settled enough to go back to sleep, so she rolled out of bed. The night seemed brighter than it had been before, but she lit candles to take with her in the house. Maybe she would make her way back to the attic and see how Thomas was spending his time._ _

__Edith made it part of the way through the hall before she heard a rattling. It was coming from a closet. A chill danced across her skin, but she remembered Thomas mentioning cats from his childhood. Perhaps there were still mousers left._ _

__She opened the door a crack. It wouldn't go further._ _

__"Are you in there, kitty?" she asked, her voice barely wavering._ _

__The closet door yanked out of her hand and shut with a loud thud. Edith gasped, but, although she was feeling lightheaded again and her heart was thudding in her ears, she grasped the doorknob again and turned it, pulling._ _

__That time, the door swung open without impediment. Edith held her breath, and..._ _

__And there was nothing inside but a box of wax cylinders. Edith shook her head at herself and closed the door again, ready to move on._ _

__Something groaned behind her. It sounded like the house at first, but the night was milder than the last had been, and the groaning was only from directly behind her._ _

__Edith whirled around._ _

__A red figure was pulling itself out of the floor. It groaned loud enough that Edith's own cry of distress was drowned out, and, once on Edith's level, it dragged itself across the floor, legs left motionless behind it. It looked more like a rotting corpse moving than a solid person, and it was dragging straight toward Edith._ _

__Edith turned, and in the blink of an eye, she was inside the elevator. She didn't question the speed with which she appeared there, just closed the cage like it would provide protection and reached out to direct the elevator up._ _

__But the elevator, or the unseen force governing it, had other ideas. It started to descend before Edith could so much as touch it, and no amount of trying altered its descent._ _

__It didn't stop at the kitchen level, either. It only stopped in the dark room beneath._ _

__Edith could see some general features in the room without her candles, which she'd left upstairs in her haste to get away. The most obvious was a large machine leading up to the ground outside the house with buckets. When Edith found a light switch, she saw so much more: rock walls bleeding clay, vats in the middle of the floor, the rusting of the buckets on the machine._ _

__Possibly the most anticlimactic of the contents of the room was a steamer trunk, but it didn't fit the rest, so Edith went to it. The initials E.S. were inscribed on the top of the black trunk in red...Edith's initials after marriage, she realized. But when she crouched to see the latch - it was, of course, locked, and there was no key nearby - there was a different name inscribed on the side._ _

__"Enola," Edith murmured, dragging her fingertips across the letters._ _

__-_ _

__Afternoon light in the bedroom roused Edith later than she meant the next day. She was wide awake and exhausted at the same time, which was no surprise considering her exertions the night before._ _

__She could hear a distant thrumming. Thomas's machine, perhaps? It was enough inspiration to get her out of bed and dressed for the day, knowing she could find him._ _

__He was indeed out with the servants, trying to get a much larger version of the machine he'd modeled in Father's office to dig at the earth beneath properly. It seemed he was racing the sun; by the time Edith made it outside, the sky was already starting to darken. When Thomas spotted Edith as she emerged from the house, he came over brightly._ _

__"What do you think?" he asked. "Beautiful, isn't it?"_ _

__"Yes, but...Thomas, I need to speak with you."_ _

__"I'm sorry, can it wait? Maybe Lucille can help you."_ _

__"I don't want to talk to Lucille." It came out harsher than she meant. "Have there been deaths in this house? Violent deaths?"_ _

__Thomas laughed. "The house is old, so I suppose..."_ _

__One of the men called for him. Thomas looked apologetic as he broke off and went back to the machine._ _

__He was sorrier still a few moments later, when he cried out with pain after trying to push a part into its proper place. He'd gotten a steam burn from the machine, and his hand was red and angry._ _

__Edith escorted him into the kitchen even though he insisted he'd be all right. She dressed his hand with care, even though, as the initial redness was subsiding, it did look not as bad as she'd initially feared._ _

__"Who have you married?" Thomas asked woefully as she started to put the bandages away. "A failure."_ _

__"Don't say that. You're all I have."_ _

__"Well, if we can't get the machine working soon, the weather will stop us from further progress. You'll soon find out why they call this place Crimson Peak."_ _

__Edith froze where she was tucking away bandages. "What did you say?"_ _

__"'Crimson Peak.' The clay leeches up through the snow when it falls, and it all turns red." He said it so casually, like it was something that he'd never thought twice about, and he left to return to the machine._ _

__Edith, on the other hand, could hear nothing but her mother's strangled voice in her ear. She'd come back from the grave to warn Edith...but how was Edith to know?_ _

__She didn't realize she was crying until tears dripped onto her shaking hands._ _

__-_ _

__Although Edith was tired enough to sleep early after the sun went down, she wasn't tired enough to stay asleep long. But pain hadn't been the rousing factor. No, it was...it was another presence. Edith could feel someone else in the room with her, but a look around revealed no one. Certainly not Thomas, whose spot in the bed was again empty._ _

__Edith picked up her candelabra again. The light made no difference to her vision, but she liked having it as she stepped away from the bed._ _

__"Are you there?" she whispered to the room as she raised her free hand. "Give me a signal."_ _

__The signal came seconds later. A force too fast and strong to counteract took hold of Edith's hand and dragged her to the ground. Her candles went as well, extinguishing with the violence of the speed she hit the floor._ _

__It didn't hold her to the ground, however. She heard choking screams from the bathroom, fading into gurgling, like someone was drowning. Edith climbed to her feet, and she didn't much want to see what was in the bathroom, but the ghosts in the house were trying to speak with her. The least she could do was hear what they had to say._ _

__She pushed the door open, and she could see, all too clear, another red specter. It sat calmly in the bath, but as it turned to look at Edith, she could see a large, gaping hole in its throat, like something had torn it open._ _

__Edith scrambled backward, feeling nauseous and lightheaded again. She lurched into the hallway, but the ghost followed, appearing in the hall with the closet._ _

__"Edith," it called, its terrible eyes bulging. "Leave here. _Now._ "_ _

__Edith cried out and ran backward._ _

__But the ghost wasn't done. "His blood will be on your hands," it said, following with a lurching walk. "Edith!"_ _

__"Edith?"_ _

__She'd run into Thomas's arms...but they weren't on the same level as the bedroom anymore. They were halfway up the stairs. Edith hadn't noticed running up that way._ _

__Was she losing her senses completely?_ _

__-_ _

__The bedroom looked much warmer and less terrifying with the lamps lit, but it didn't stop Edith from crying._ _

__"She was so angry." Edith knew she was talking in circles, but Thomas and Lucille, who hovered nearby, were doing little but preparing tea and shooting looks that Edith couldn't read at them. "She wanted me to leave."_ _

__"Sleepwalking," Lucille said dismissively._ _

__"I'm not well," Edith insisted. She felt more ill by the day. "I have to _go_."_ _

__"Maybe we can go to the post office tomorrow." Thomas knelt by her, taking her hand. "Get out of the house, and you'll feel better."_ _

__Edith couldn't stop crying. She did accept the cup of tea Lucille offered, mostly because she hadn't the foggiest idea what to do next._ _

__"But," she said, "I should leave."_ _

__Lucille met her gaze steadily. "You have nowhere else to go."_ _

__-_ _

__The world outside Allerdale Hall, even at the depot, seemed so much brighter and more clean. It hurt Edith's eyes, and her whole body ached like exposure to sunlight was making her ailments worse, but Edith couldn't care much. She was away from Crimson Peak. Even if only temporarily._ _

__Thomas showed her the parts he was picking up until the man who ran the depot pulled her aside to give her letters. There were a couple from William Ferguson, her father's lawyer, and another from Milan._ _

__"But I don't know anyone in Italy," Edith mused._ _

__"Begging your pardon, my lady, but it seems you do."_ _

__She didn't have a chance to open the letter to inspect it, however. Thomas was in front of her before long, claiming they had to leave to stay ahead of the weather. Edith detested the thought, and maybe the depot workers could sense it because one suggested they stay in the room beneath the depot._ _

__"Why not?" Edith asked Thomas, and it seemed he could not refuse her._ _

__-_ _

__"This Cavendish." Thomas tapped the page of Edith's manuscript. "He's bloodthirsty, isn't he?"_ _

__"Do you find it appalling?"_ _

__"On the contrary. I like him. Will it turn out well for him?"_ _

__Edith was drawing the quilt and the sheets beneath on the bed as Thomas read. It looked like a cabin: woodsy and intimate, with the lamp light casting a golden glow._ _

__"Depends," she said as Thomas came to help. "On what he tells me. Characters make choices, and I follow them."_ _

__They climbed into bed, and when Edith turned into Thomas's arms, she couldn't resist trying to recapture their kiss from his workshop. Neither, it seemed, could Thomas. He kissed her until they were both breathless and panting._ _

__"Allow me?" he asked._ _

__She wasn't sure what he was asking, but she nodded, ready for whatever he wanted to try._ _

__He kissed down her body, worshiping her with his lips and the caresses of his hands. It inflamed her further, but not as much as the moment when he pushed her skirts up to her waist, leaving lingering kisses on her thigh._ _

__"May I?" he asked, like it was the greatest privilege in the world._ _

__Edith had no experience in these realms, but considering how warm and aching she felt between her thighs, she had an educated guess where this would lead._ _

__"Please," she said, and it came out like she was conferring a title upon him._ _

__He smiled widely, and he ducked his head and carefully pushed away her underthings, leaving her warm folds exposed to the chilly air. She felt the heat of his breath, followed by the gentle caress of his lips on her._ _

__Edith gasped. It felt amazing._ _

__Thomas didn't stop there. He moved the skirts - so he could see her face, she realized with a thrill - and kissed her most sensitive spot. He tried many different things. He sucked gently with his lips. He trilled with his tongue. He slipped a finger inside her, and she clenched around it as his mouth found a rhythm that made her cry out and shake._ _

__Her pleasure peaked, and Edith had never known such bliss as it pulsed through her in waves._ _

__Thomas's face was wet with sweat and Edith when he came up to kiss her again. She could taste a strange tanginess on his tongue. It was her. Strange, but exhilarating._ _

__After a moment, when she felt less sensitive, she rolled him over onto his back. His eyes widened as she climbed over him, feeling inside his trousers for the hardness that pressed against her._ _

__"May I?" she asked, and he smiled, nodding like he couldn't summon the words to tell her out loud._ _

__It took her a few moments' fumbling, but soon, she was sliding over him, taking him inside her with a satisfying shiver. He shivered as well, and that was, perhaps, more satisfying._ _

__Edith braced her hands on his shoulders and moved her hips. Her body was still feeling the echoes of his mouth on her, and she let her eyes flutter closed, let herself feel every moment of where they were joined and sliding against each other._ _

__He reached climax first, warm and wet inside of her, shaking and beautiful beneath her. She reached between her legs and felt for the spot Thomas had worked before, riding her own hand and the last of Thomas's hardness until she was joining him over the edge._ _

__When she climbed off him and back into his arms, he ran a hand over her hair, and they looked into each other's eyes without words until they were both asleep._ _

__-_ _

__The sun wasn't so piercing the next morning as they returned. Edith and Thomas had slept through the night, and she thought they both looked the better for it._ _

__"We could leave," she said in the carriage, emboldened by the night before. "Go anywhere. London. Paris. Milan."_ _

__Something appeared on his face at the last city name, but it passed quickly. "The machine..."_ _

__"We don't need it. We don't need any of this. We could start somewhere else." She caressed Thomas's cheek. "You're in the past, but you won't find me there."_ _

__Thomas stared at her like he was considering it. Maybe...but the carriage stopped, and his face cleared._ _

__"I have to help them sort the parts," he said, letting himself out first._ _

__Edith sighed, and she followed._ _

__Allerdale Hall looked even more a menacing shadow, but Edith felt lighter as she walked inside. She could endure the house as long as she had Thomas. Maybe he would give her more consideration with time. Patience would be difficult, but Edith could endure._ _

__-_ _

__The smell of burning drew Edith to the kitchen. A pan was on top of the stove, and she put her letters on the table and went to move the pan._ _

__"Where were you?"_ _

__Edith turned, the pan safely away from the main heat of the stove. Lucille stood several feet away, the handle of a coal bucket clutched tightly in her hand._ _

__"We got caught in the storm," Edith said, backing up as Lucille took her place at the stove. "The food was burning."_ _

__"I was alone." It sounded like the worst thing that had happened to her. "You think this is a game?"_ _

__Edith frowned. "He's my husband, Lucille."_ _

__The next moment happened so fast that Edith couldn't track it. Lucille was in her face, and the pan was on the table with food spilled everywhere. Edith hadn't seen her move._ _

__"I was _frantic_."_ _

__Edith's vision swam in front of her. She thought she would faint, or at least fall over, but Lucille grabbed her arm with an iron grip._ _

__"You aren't well," Lucille said. "You should rest. I'll make you some tea."_ _

__She turned. The table was clean of food, and Edith hadn't noticed it happen, or noticed Lucille putting her house keys on the tabletop. There, at the top of the ring, was a golden key with a name inscribed._ _

__Enola._ _

__"Did you get letters from America?" Lucille asked from where she was rummaging through her tea._ _

__"Yes," Edith said quickly, sliding the key off the ring and picking up her letters to hide it. "I...I'll go upstairs to read them. Don't worry about the tea."_ _

__She exited, walking out of the kitchen quickly._ _

__-_ _

__Edith meant to sign the letter for transfer of funds first. She had her father's pen, complete with its elaborate silver tip, and she was ready to sign it and send it off and finish her life in Buffalo for good._ _

__But the letter from Milan was just too tempting. She put down her pen and opened it._ _

__Obviously, it was in Italian, which Edith didn't know. She didn't need to know much to understand the opening._ _

__" _Mia cara Enola_ ," it read._ _

__-_ _

__The key to the trunk worked._ _

__Edith wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected, sneaking into the basement again to open it, looking over her shoulder as she heard Thomas's machine thrumming from not too great a distance. To be fair, the basement was a chilling place, and she knew Lucille wouldn't be pleased by Edith's snooping. Perhaps she expected some weapon or a hand grabbing for him._ _

__But the contents weren't so scary. At least, Edith didn't find a gramophone, envelopes, and mostly empty glass bottles particularly unnerving. There was red inside the bottles, no doubt more of the ore Thomas was extracting, so Edith left them and took the gramophone and envelopes back with her._ _

__"Edith?" Lucille called when Edith was back on the second floor. Edith moves quickly, and she's back in her room in the blink of an eye, barely noticing how fast she went in her haste to be back. She tucked her prizes under her armchair, pulled a blanket over her lap, and pretended to be asleep._ _

__"I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning." Lucille frowned as she entered. "Your tea."_ _

__Edith looked at the tray and the untouched tea. She'd forgotten Lucille had brought it despite Edith telling her she hadn't wanted it._ _

__"I don't feel well," Edith said. "Would you mind fetching me some cold water?"_ _

__Lucille nodded and put her keys down, going for the bathroom. Edith took her chance immediately, rushing up to return the Enola key as soon as she was satisfied that Lucille wouldn't see her._ _

__"Have you had a chance to read your letters?" Lucille asked._ _

__"Yes. Just some papers from my lawyer. I have to sign to transfer funds."_ _

__Lucille smiled as she emerged and handed Edith the glass of water. "You should rest. You'll feel better soon."_ _

__If Edith was honest with herself, she felt better the moment Lucille took her keys and left the room._ _

__-_ _

__Edith felt a body against hers in her sleep. It was locked against her, delivering pain and pleasure all at the same time, and Edith cried out, unsure if she wanted it to stop or continue._ _

__"Thomas?" she murmured. "Oh, Thomas..."_ _

__The dream faded, and when Edith opened her eyes, she was alone._ _

__There was a storm outside, so dark that she would have thought it night if not for the very occasional peek of sky through the cloud cover. Edith shivered at the sight, and when she heard the fire roar as the wind made it flare, she shivered again._ _

__She got out of bed, feeling shakier and more lightheaded than ever before. She still had her feet, but it was difficult to keep them._ _

__There was no sign of Thomas or Lucille in the rest of the house when Edith poked her head out of her bedroom door. Thomas was probably asleep in his workshop, since there would be no working outside; she had spied a cot in there with rumpled blankets on her last visit. Lucille...well, who knew with Lucille, but Edith wasn't worried about her for some reason. She wasn't sure when she'd have a better chance._ _

__She pulled out the gramophone and envelopes from beneath the chair, and she took the wax cylinders from the closet in the hall, and she went into the library._ _

__Setting them up wasn't difficult. A voice that Edith didn't recognize spoke to Thomas, asking him to say that he loved her. She looked sharply at it, and then she opened the first envelope, which read "Pamela Upton, London, 1850". It was an old picture, starting to bleach from age, of a woman in a wheelchair. The wheelchair Edith had seen in the nursery. And beside her was..._ _

__"Thomas?" the voice on the gramophone asked._ _

__No, it couldn't be Thomas. It was 1901; Thomas must have had an ancestor who shared a resemblance. Her eyes were playing tricks._ _

__Edith opened the second envelope as Thomas's voice recited a poem on the gramophone. The envelope read "Margaret McDermott, Edinburgh, 1873". There were pictures of another woman, less decayed with time. Again, Thomas's twin sat beside her, looking all the world like the man that Edith had married. They were drinking tea. The tea set was the same as the one Lucille used._ _

__She switched wax cylinders, and an accented voice spoke._ _

__"We had plans to leave, but I can't. I'm too tired, too...wrong. I will hide these cylinders away in the linen closet."_ _

__Edith pulled out the last of the envelopes: "Enola Shotti, Milan, 1896." The contents were the most disturbing of all. There was a woman with a baby._ _

__A death picture of the baby._ _

__"To whoever finds this, know that are draining me, killing me slowly. They tire me with the tea, and when I'm asleep..."_ _

__The recording cut off._ _

__Edith was running before she realized it._ _

__She was exhausted, but not so exhausted that she didn't notice, with clear eyes, how fast she was moving. Unearthly fast. Fast enough that she was at the door in a single beat of her heart, and she could still count the numerous strides that had taken her there. No human moved that fast._ _

__Edith still felt human. It was very human to feel as unwell as she did. But Thomas so frequently looked unwell, and Edith wasn't sure what he was anymore._ _

__She went to the doors, and even as exhausted as she felt, they opened easily for her. Unfortunately, they brought nothing but snow and wind with them, and a couple of rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds. They hit Edith like knives, and she stumbled back from the door, coming to rest at the foot of the stairs._ _

__Edith had to be close to death. It wasn't possible for a person to endure that much pain and survive. It couldn't be. She didn't want to die, but as her eyes fluttered closed, she could only hope for release from the pain, in whatever form it took._ _

__-_ _

__"Edith."_ _

__She wasn't dead. Edith wasn't sure if she was relieved or not._ _

__There wasn't as much pain, but opening her eyes was extremely difficult. Focusing her eyes was less hard, as she had Lucille at the foot of her bed to look upon. She was holding a tea tray._ _

__"We found you at the bottom of the stairs," Lucille said, setting the tray down. "You should rest more. Here."_ _

__She tried to lift a teacup to Edith's lips, but Edith turned her head away from it._ _

__Lucille seemed unbothered. She grabbed a bowl of porridge instead, and Edith, weak and hungry, couldn't resist._ _

__"I'll get you out of that bed," Lucille said. "I tended Mother here. Father broke her leg, left her bedridden. I took care of her, just like I'll take care of you."_ _

__"May I have a moment alone with my wife?"_ _

__Thomas. He was pushing the wheelchair, of all things. As he brought it closer, Edith could see the signs of age: how some of the seat was bleached and frayed, how the wheels were rusted in places, how the handles were breaking. Old, yes. But fifty years old?_ _

__Lucille smiled at Edith. "I promise you'll be out of that bed soon." And with that, she withdrew._ _

__Thomas sat on the bed and pushed the teacup Lucille had left away. "Don't drink it," he said softly. "It isn't safe to leave yourself that vulnerable."_ _

__Edith tried to focus on his words, but she was too tired to manage it. She drifted off, and as she fell asleep, she felt his hand gently stroking at her hair._ _

__-_ _

__It was dark when Edith rose again. She didn't feel much better, but neither did she feel much worse. A small victory, but she would take it._ _

__Thomas had left the wheelchair, and Edith used it, wheeling into the hall. A baby's cry greeted her, and she knew generally what would greet her when she turned to the stairwell: the ghost of a woman cradling a baby's ghost._ _

__"I know who you are," Edith said, forcing herself to stand. "You're Enola. What do you want?"_ _

__The ghost of Enola pointed in the direction of the attic. Edith could do nothing but use the elevator up, even as her dread grew. The answers she sought were here._ _

__She heard a humming song as she reached the attic. It wasn't toward Thomas's workshop; it was coming from another room with a closed door. As Edith approached, she realized where she'd heard the song before._ _

__It was the lullaby Lucille had been playing on the piano._ _

__Edith gripped the doorknob and opened the door._ _

__Lucille's bedroom was reminiscent of Thomas's workshop: it was tucked away in an eave, but instead of work benches and toys, it was filled with a bed and a desk and the sorts of things a person residing in a room would have._ _

__Two figures were on the bed, joined together. It took Edith a moment to interpret the images she was seeing: a woman with a hand down a man's trousers, cradling him close to her neck as she hummed the lullaby and worked him toward climax. The man drew away from the woman, eyes red and inhuman, mouth covered in blood, canines sharp._ _

__A monster, but somehow, also Thomas._ _

__Horror grew on Thomas's face as he recognized Edith, surely a reflection of the horror on hers. The woman turned to look at Edith, and, of course, it was Lucille, her eyes also red and inhuman. She didn't look upset at Edith's presence. If anything, she appeared...smug._ _

__Edith turned away before she could give it any thought._ _

__She ran as best she could, which was faster than humanly possible, but not fast enough. She was halfway down the stairs when Lucille caught up, her eyes as inhuman as ever. She smiled and bared fangs like Thomas's._ _

__"You're not his sister," Edith cried as Lucille pushed her against the railing. "You're both monsters."_ _

__She could hear two sounds in the distance: Thomas calling Lucille's name, and what sounded like a loud knocking at the front door._ _

__"We're monsters," Lucille agreed. She grasped the family ring on Edith's finger and tore it off savagely, grinning at Edith's cry of pain. "But he is my brother."_ _

__Lucille shoved Edith, hard enough that it hurt Edith's shoulders, hard enough that Edith hit the banister and fell._ _

__The next part was hard to follow. Edith landed on snow - inside? Somehow? She watched as Lucille grew more distant and the floors rushed past. There was a shock of pain as she hit her leg. Her memories were in the wrong order, but Edith couldn't put them back again._ _

__The world went dark around her._ _

__-_ _

__"Edith? Can you hear me?"_ _

__The voice was familiar, but...no, it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. There wasn't a world outside Allerdale Hall, no world outside the pain Edith felt through a wall of haze, no world outside the horror she had stumbled upon. Everything from her life in Buffalo was gone._ _

__And yet, as Edith opened her eyes, there he was. Alan, a piece of her life before all this, was looking up at her from where he was bent over her leg._ _

__"You're heavily sedated," he said. "I needed to set your leg."_ _

__She heard a hum and looked hazily to see Thomas and Lucille standing by the piano. They were in the parlor, illuminated by daylight streaming through the windows. Their eyes weren't red but their usual, deceptively human shades, and no one had blood on their faces. Still, Edith wondered how she had ever seen them as human. They didn't look ill, as she had thought for their entire acquaintance. Edith had seen her mother swept away by illness, and she had retained her humanity to the end._ _

__No. Lucille and Thomas looked inhuman. Monsters wearing human masks._ _

__Lucille was speaking, but Edith wasn't registering any of it. She was too busy watching Alan try to lift a teacup to her lips._ _

__"No," she whispered hoarsely, waving her left hand vaguely. She winced at her sore finger, which she could feel even through the sedation._ _

__Alan grabbed her hand and looked at her finger. He dropped it again and turned to the Sharpes._ _

__"I need a moment alone with my patient," he said, ushering them out. Edith faded for a moment, drifting in the fuzzy feeling, but Alan returned before long. It was almost the sudden appearances the Sharpes did, but without their crispness._ _

__Edith had almost forgotten what it was like to be in the presence of humans._ _

__"Alan," she managed, but it conveyed nothing of what she wanted to say._ _

__It didn't matter because Alan returned with what she wanted to here. "I'm getting you out of here," he said. "Can you stand?"_ _

__She tried, but Alan could see it wouldn't happen and lifted her into his arms bridal style. She cried out at the initial jolt to her leg, but she was so happy at the prospect of freedom that she was willing to bear it._ _

__And then Alan put her down, citing the need to find coats. She pleaded with him to just leave, that the risk of freezing was worth it._ _

__"Where are you going?" Lucille asked, returning with Thomas._ _

__Just like that, it was too late._ _

__"Edith's showing signs of anemia," he said. "She needs a hospital."_ _

__"That's not necessary," Lucille said._ _

__Alan pulled out a newspaper and handed it to Edith. It was falling apart, but Edith read the important parts: two children orphaned by an animal attack in the bath. Throat torn out._ _

__The date at the top was 1836._ _

__She looked back up at Alan, who had taken a cross necklace off and had it extended toward the Sharpes. He was fumbling with his vest, trying to open it, but Lucille appeared at his side in the blink of an eye._ _

__"Please," she said, voice dry. "Thomas and Edith were married in a church, you realize."_ _

__That said, she pulled out a knife and stabbed Alan in the side. Edith screamed, trying to walk forward to do _something_ , but she was too weak._ _

__Alan lurched away, looking confused. Lucille muttered something to Thomas, and Thomas walked up to Alan, eyes going red and fangs extending. He grabbed Alan and said something in an undertone. Alan muttered something back. What it was, Edith didn't know._ _

__And it didn't matter. Thomas plunged his fangs in Alan's neck and drank deeply, letting Alan drop to the ground when he'd had his fill. He turned back toward Edith and Lucille, eyes glowing with the light of day._ _

__Edith knew, at that moment, that she didn't have much longer to live._ _

__-_ _

__And yet, after all the horror, there were still legal proceedings to be honored._ _

__Lucille brought Edith and her papers to the attic while Thomas took Alan - Alan's body - somewhere. Lucille looked to be in no hurry to force Edith to sign. She flipped through the pages of Edith's story and tossed them carelessly in the fire._ _

__"And you fancied yourself a writer." With a derisive snort, Lucille tossed the last pages in the fire. "You know nothing of monsters. Your pure vampires...that's not what we are. Father found blood in the Carpathians and wanted to use it to extend his life."_ _

__Lucille rolled out a parcel on her table, and with a shock, Edith realized it was Alan's silver stakes._ _

__"Pity that I ended up staking him with a silver knife," Lucille said, tracing her fingers over the stakes. "Your friend's implements are far more elegant."_ _

__"You wanted to be immortal that badly?" Edith asked. She couldn't fathom it. "You wanted power that much?"_ _

__"Power?" Lucille grabbed scissors from her desk and came up to Edith. "No. I wanted the years Mother and Father stole from us, with their cruelty. I would have been content enough to just finish off Father, but then Mother found out how Thomas and I spent our time, and..."_ _

__Lucille snipped off a lock of Edith's hair._ _

__"She did make a fine meal," Lucille said, withdrawing to the table._ _

__"But all the wives? You killed Enola's baby!"_ _

__Lucille shook her head as she started braiding Edith's lock of hair. "We needed money to survive as much as we needed blood. And none of them fucked Thomas. I didn't drink blood for a year, and I conceived, but the baby...he was born wrong. Enola said she could save him. She couldn't."_ _

__She emphasized that with a shut of the drawer where she put Edith's hair._ _

__"The deaths...they weren't for money. They were mercy killings in their own way, as we went for women with money and no connections, but they were to protect what Thomas and I have had. I raised him. I love him with everything I have. It's a twisted love, but it's all we have."_ _

__"You suffocate him," Edith said with a scowl. "You've turned him into a monster like you, and you deny him a decent end."_ _

__Lucille's eyes flared red, and with a stake in her hand, she rushed forward, pointing at the paper in front of Edith._ _

__"Sign," she hissed._ _

__Edith didn't turn her glare away from Lucille as she scrawled her name on the paper._ _

__"Who killed my father?" Edith asked._ _

__"He was such a coarse, condescending man." Lucille leaned in. "But his blood was _delicious_."_ _

__Lucille snatched the paper off the table, but Edith barely registered her. Edith could only see a vision of Lucille, bent over Edith's father and taking all his blood from his body, killing him in a rush of violence._ _

__Edith had never hated anything more than she hated Lucille in that moment._ _

__But Edith had her opportunity, and with the surge of anger masking her weakness and pain, she struck, digging the pen into Lucille's chest and pulling it out again._ _

__Lucille's eyes flashed bright red, but she was in obvious pain, dropping the pages and falling backward. Edith obviously hadn't gotten it in her heart, and it was a pity, but blood was spraying from Lucille's chest as she sank backward, and Edith had the chance to run._ _

__She took it._ _

__-_ _

__Unfortunately, Edith rounded the corner by the elevator, and another vampire greeted her: Thomas, still covered in Alan's blood. Edith waved the bloody pen in his face, and Thomas raised his hands._ _

__"Edith, wait," he said. "Alan is alive, you just need to—"_ _

__"You lied to me!" she cried._ _

__"I did."_ _

__"You poisoned me! Attacked me!"_ _

__"Sedated you, with the tea," he corrected. "I never fed on you. That was Lucille."_ _

__Edith remembered the night she thought she had dreamed Thomas's presence. But it had been _Lucille_._ _

__"You said you loved me!"_ _

__"I do!"_ _

__Edith couldn't say she knew Thomas as well as she liked, but she could read that he was genuine, and she lowered the pen._ _

__"Alan is alive," he repeated. "He's in the basement. I'm going to get the papers for you."_ _

__"Why?"_ _

__"I'm going to finish this." Thomas shook his head and turned to go._ _

__"Wait," Edith said. "I thought you were changing me, but I'm too weak to make it to the basement."_ _

__"Victims end up with power, too. Not as much as me, and definitely not as much as Lucille, but we would never have to kill you to get our fill. It was that way with the others as well." Thomas looked remorseful, and for a moment, very, very old. "Here. Let me feed you."_ _

__He raised his wrist to his mouth, but Edith raised a hand and stepped back. "I don't want to be like you!" she cried._ _

__"No, just a mouthful won't do that," he said. "This is just enough to get you out. We too would return to normal if we stopped feeding. I fed Alan so he would survive long enough for you to leave as well. Let me do this for you. Please."_ _

__Somehow, after everything, Edith still felt the warmth that signified both her love and wanting for Thomas. She lowered his hand from his mouth. Instead, she cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down to her level._ _

__"Like this," she said, opening her mouth to his throat. Her teeth weren't the fangs that Thomas and Lucille had, but she was still able to draw blood without too much effort. Thomas groaned, a sound of pain and pleasure at the sensation._ _

__And Edith..._ _

__She didn't know how to put it into words, exactly. But she had a flash of Thomas's entire life in front of her eyes, and emotion to go along with it._ _

__His father beating Lucille while Thomas hid under a table. Watching Lucille stab their father, and both of them feeding off his corpse. Watching Lucille tear out their mother's throat. Watching Lucille as they were separated for their respective schools by authorities. Watching Lucille as they were reunited after years of feeding on others at their schools. Finding the first wife and sedating her, feeding on Lucille and feeling the pure burst of love and affection from both his sister and his wife in his veins. Living off those riches for a time. Repeating the cycle with wives two and three. Watching Lucille turn human and grow round with their baby. Burying their baby not long after he was born._ _

__Thomas falling in love with Edith._ _

__Edith's father trying to protect her by buying off the Sharpes. Edith, glowing and beautiful, even as she grew wan and ill. Lucille, putting the sedative into the tea. Lucille, talking about others staking them if Thomas tried to leave. Alan, coming back to a measure of wellness when Thomas fed him._ _

__When Edith drew back, she swallowed the mouthful of blood and felt tears trickle down her cheeks._ _

__Thomas kissed her forehead. "Thank you," he said gratefully, and he rushed off into Lucille's room._ _

__-_ _

__Edith was so connected to Thomas, their bond so complete, that she could see through his eyes even from another room._ _

__He ran into Lucille's room, found the papers on the floor, and threw them into Lucille's fire without pause. He felt satisfaction as the flames engulfed them, and Edith felt it too._ _

__"You burnt them."_ _

__Lucille was still in the room. She emerged from the corner she had been cowering in, bosom covered in blood. She had never looked more monstrous to Edith, and Thomas felt both love and fear._ _

__"It's over, Lucille," he said, grabbing her arms. "We've had more time than we ever needed, than was ever stolen. We can live our lives away from this place. Let it sink in the ground."_ _

__"You burnt them," Lucille echoed, looking at the fire._ _

__"Listen to me! We can be mortal again. Could you imagine, all of us living in a city as people?"_ _

__Lucille's face brightened for an instant, but at _all of us_ it shut down. Thomas felt nothing but desperation for Lucille to listen, but Edith felt growing fear._ _

__" _Us_?" she said. "Do you...do you love Edith?"_ _

__Thomas sighed. He was relieved. He loved Edith, truly loved her, and Lucille hadn't known? Perhaps that was the most surprising of everything Edith had learned._ _

__"This day had to come," he said. "We've been dead all of these years."_ _

__Lucille stepped back. Thomas tried to step forward toward her, but there was no placating Lucille. She let out an inhuman shriek, and with a firm thrust forward, she stabbed Thomas in the chest with the silver stake. Edith, in the hall, clutched at her own bosom, feeling the stake like it had pierced her own heart. Lucille withdrew and stabbed again, and Edith didn't feel it as much that time._ _

__Thomas was dying._ _

__"Lucille," he said, reaching out for her._ _

__She shrieked one more time and slammed the stake in Thomas's cheek, and with the impact, Edith was forced back into her own body._ _

__Well, sort of. Edith had a more distant awareness of everything in the house with her connection to Thomas severed by death. She could feel the ghosts connected to the house and disconnected from life. She could feel the elusive mousing cats that she had never laid eyes on. She could feel Alan in the basement, waiting for Edith._ _

__And she could feel Lucille, a dark storm of hate and grief._ _

__Edith climbed into the elevator just as Lucille appeared, her nightgown flared around her. She had a dark cape over, a contrast to Edith's pure white, and Lucille looked like an avenging angel as she swept forward. She was slower than before, and as the elevator descended, Edith knew it wasn't just the vampiric blood Thomas had gifted her with._ _

__It was the wounds Edith had inflicted, both on Lucille's person and on her spirit._ _

__-_ _

__Edith made it to the basement with the pen in hand. It wouldn't be adequate to stop Lucille, but if she and Alan could outrun her, it would be enough._ _

__But when she found Alan, he was dazed and still in pain. He was far better than he would have been if he'd just been bleeding out, but he was in no fit state to outrun anyone. She told him to hide and make no sounds._ _

__Edith would have to stop Lucille before they could make their exit._ _

__She stepped out when Lucille descended down the stairs. Lucille looked the most inhuman Edith had seen yet, her face contorted and elongated. All of her teeth were fanged, and her eyes were red all the way through instead of partially red._ _

__Edith backed up as Lucille waved the stake in front of her. The old mining machine's buckets were behind her; she just needed to make sure Lucille would follow her and not stay behind for Alan. There wasn't much incentive for her to do so, but Edith couldn't take chances._ _

__Lucille lunged, and Edith rushed up the buckets in a blur, using the vampiric power to skip over them like stones on a pond._ _

__Outside appeared to be some kind of limbo between night and day, and Edith had no idea what time it actually was. All she knew was the sky was bright and the snow looked bloody under her feet. Crimson Peak had truly earned its name._ _

__She darted behind a machine. The corpses of mining were all over the place, and seeing them up close, Edith could tell how just how old much of it was, weathered from years of intense storms and neglect._ _

__"Edith!" Lucille said, her voice twisted and strange. "Show yourself! There's no reason to draw this out."_ _

__Edith slipped behind a machine, but it was the wrong choice; she barely dodged the silver slash through the air Lucille created, but Lucille darted away before Edith could recover._ _

__She darted around the newest of the machines. Thomas's machine. Lucille was in front of her, but she was moving just slowly enough that Edith was able to grab her descending hand and keep the stake from plunging into her heart. Lucille raised a hand to stop Edith's pen, and she howled a twisted shriek when the nib buried into her palm. She shoved Edith back, and the tip of the stake dragged across Edith's cheek, leaving a burning wound in its wake._ _

__The pen went flying, and Edith fell back against a shovel. She picked it up and held it front of her. It probably wasn't a decent deterrent, but it was all Edith had._ _

__"I won't stop," Lucille said, "till I kill you or you kill me."_ _

__Edith couldn't kill Lucille easily with a shovel. Not while Lucille was aware of her. She remembered Alan in his office in Buffalo, saying how the stakes were easier than decapitation as a means to stop vampires and werewolves, but it wasn't something she could do on her own. There was no silver left on Edith's person that would slow Lucille enough to give Edith time._ _

__Still, silver wasn't the only way to inflict damage._ _

__"Help me," Edith said, sensing a new presence wandering the frozen wastes around them with her borrowed power. "Please."_ _

__"There's no one to help you," Lucille spat._ _

__"Yes, there is. Turn around. Look at him."_ _

__Lucille did._ _

__The ghost of Thomas hovered behind them. A ghost, but his choices at the end meant he stood before them both the most human that Edith had ever seen him, whole and as hearty as a ghost could be. When Lucille sobbed, Edith knew that Lucille hadn't seen him that human in decades._ _

__"Lucille," Edith said, and when Lucille turned, she smacked her soundly across the head with the shovel._ _

__Lucille crumpled, the stake skittering across the frozen ground._ _

__"I won't stop," Lucille slurred, crawling toward the stake, "till I kill you or you kill me."_ _

__It wasn't pretty, what happened next. Nothing about what happened that day was pretty. Still, Edith wasn't ashamed of the way she used the vampiric power to drive the shovel into Lucille's throat over and over, spraying her blood across the ground. The blood was the exact color of the snow, sinking in to join the clay._ _

__Edith only stopped when Lucille's head rolled away from her body; Edith felt the power start to leave her own person at the same time. She leaned on the shovel, sagging with exhaustion._ _

__"I heard you the first time," Edith said, catching her breath._ _

__Thomas was still standing before her. Edith's throat grew thick with unshed tears, and she stepped forward to caress his cheek. He leaned into her touch...and her hand dragged through him. He was only a specter, after all._ _

__The wind kicked up, and Thomas disappeared, the currents taking him to his final rest._ _

__-_ _

__As Edith and Alan stumbled for the gates of Allerdale Hall, leaning on each other for support, two things happened._ _

__The first was that a group of men - the men from the depot, if her eyes didn't fail her - were coming from the other side to meet her. Alan had told her when she had fetched him from the basement that he'd asked them to come when the storm receded, but she hadn't entirely believed it. It was a relief._ _

__The second was that Edith could still sense the house with the last gasp of the vampiric power. It was a rotting wreck that would fall into the ground before long, neglect passively destroying what was left. The house still bore physical evidence of all that had happened within its walls in the form of blood: Alan's blood on the floor of the entry, Thomas's blood in the attic, and Lucille's blood scattered through the house. But all the old ghosts had gained rest with Edith's discovery and survival. Edith felt their relief as acutely as she felt her own._ _

__Only one ghost remained, a dark figure sitting at the piano. A ghost driven by abuse and twisted feeling the ghost's living self would have called love._ _

__As Edith left Allerdale Hall for the last time, the ghost of Lucille raised her hands and started to play._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: Short version, if you've seen the movie, this story has most of the same content, with a little extra sex, abuse, and vampiric-style violence. Pretty much the only thing it doesn't have is animal harm (I took the dog out). The idea here is "Crimson Peak, but with vampires".
> 
> The longer version: it's gothic romance/horror. There's major character death/violence/murder, child death, incest, and abusive situations and many of the things that come with it (gaslighting, drugging to take advantage, at least one scene with rape overtones, children being abused, the cycle of abuse, and so on). The vampirism also mimics illness in this story.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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